“Name-calling? Really?”

Why had Dan thought he had more time? Hadn’t his father warned him to leave? The footstep he’d heard belonged to Tamsin. Finnoway was already there, just behind him. Dan was cornered and outnumbered, and reasonably confident that the councilman could outmatch him in a fight.

He backed into the cabinet, closing it as he went.

“Is there a reason you’re trespassing on my property?” the councilman asked, his eyes going at once to the papers folded up in Dan’s hand. “Or just out for a stroll?”

“There’s no way to make this look better, is there?” Dan tried to gauge his chances of making a dash for the door. Tamsin wasn’t exactly brawny, but she also seemed like the type to carry a weapon.

“No, there really isn’t.” Finnoway nodded toward Dan’s hand and the old records tucked away in it. “I assume you think you’ve found something important. That’s actually touching. I’m touched in this moment. Do you know why?”

“I couldn’t care less,” Dan muttered. He could try to inch his way around the room and circle, but that would take forever. Maybe Oliver would come looking for him, but that seemed like a distant possibility. He couldn’t count on anyone but himself in this godforsaken town.

“I’m touched because you were on the cusp of something,” Finnoway explained, gesturing Tamsin forward. He was wearing a long, light coat, one that looked like it could conceal any number of small weapons. Smiling, he snapped his fingers. Gloved fingers, Dan noticed—gloves made of sleek, black leather. “So close. Am I right? You had the most peculiar look on your face when you turned around just now. Wonderment and then—like that—terror. That’s where the real discoveries lie.”

The heat and color drained from Dan’s face.

“Tamsin, if you would please.”

She was faster than Dan could have predicted, striking like a coiled snake, lunging over Finnoway’s shoulder with a tiny, flashing needle. Before Dan could respond, he felt a light pricking sensation in his neck.

He had enough time to spin and see the assistant’s bloodred lips curl into a smile. Then the floor was right at his back, his chin, hitting him like a full-bodied punch. He couldn’t stop staring at the assistant’s shoes. They were so, so pointy. . . .

“Not a bad find,” he heard Finnoway rumble, the darkness suddenly acute and nauseating, tar thick and drowning him. “But not enough to wipe away the boy’s debt.”